


need you like cake on my birthday

by emiliefuture



Series: late (but still valid) kinktober 2018 [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Begging, Bottom Hank Anderson, Breast Worship, F/F, Female Ejaculation, Handcuffs, Kinda?, Kinktober 2018, Light Dom/sub, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Strap-Ons, Teasing, Top Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-07-29 03:04:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16255373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emiliefuture/pseuds/emiliefuture
Summary: Or, the one where the eccentric, hard-boiled police lieutenant takes it hard from Connie, the android sent by Cyberlife.(Day 2: Begging)





	need you like cake on my birthday

**Author's Note:**

> this fic was brought to you by my pathological need to turn every ship I love into lesbians every now and then
> 
> also, inspired by TrekFaerie's breathtakingly good Detroit become lesbian au, because THAT is some great shit

It had started with the handcuffs Hannah had accidentally brought home from work a few nights ago. A stupid mistake, probably bad form, and not excusable in any way now that she was on her fucking turn around, courtesy of one insufferably sweet robocop infiltrating her heart and life and inspiring her to be a more exemplary officer again. But she’d been tired as hell that day, she figured, and the stakeout had taken too damn long, so forgive her if remembering to return the unused pair of emergency cuffs had slipped her mind.

Connie had seen Hannah use other pairs on perps before, and had obviously used them a few times herself in the same strictly professional manner, but when she’d seen them laying there gleaming on the shelf by the door (next to Hannah’s keys, in the hopes that she wouldn’t forget to return them or whatever), her eyes had sparkled and her lips had quirked up into a deliciously _deviant_ smirk. 

“Hannah,” she begins, from where she sits perched on the arm of her human’s sofa, just above where Hannah was lounging. (Apparently even queer _androids_ don’t know how to sit properly, go figure.) “You won’t be returning those until tomorrow, correct?”

“That was the plan, yeah,” Hannah says, unsure of where this is going, but the horny old broad part of her brain is immediately drumming up quite a list of intriguing possibilities. “Why do you ask? They giving you any ideas?” She nudges Connie’s shoulder teasingly.

Connie tries to keep a poker face, but that spinning yellow LED is a great tell, as usual. “ _Maybe_ ,” she says, hand coming to rest on Hannah’s shoulder, fingers lightly drumming into her skin in a rhythm that’s both soothing and a little seductive.

“Hmph. Well, you know I’ve been around the block with some less vanilla shit, babe. Kind of happens a lot when you’re a cop. I wouldn’t be adverse to playing around with you all cuffed up.” Her face is going hot at the thought already; it’s really something how much of an effect Connie has on her.

“Actually, I was thinking of cuffing _you_ up,” Connie says, as if the words won’t make Hannah just about choke on air. “I know that you more often like to be the one to ‘top.’” She uses fucking air quotes here, like the lovable dork she is, head tilted to the side in thought, and Hannah feels herself fall ever so slightly more in love with her, as if that were at all possible.

“But you’ve displayed high amounts of arousal the few times you’ve let me be in charge. You got so _wet_ , Lieutenant, I–” she stops herself, cheeks starting to tint blue, and she bites her lip hard. “I’ve been thinking about trying it again for a while now, but seeing those handcuffs has given me a good deal of… more creative thoughts.”

“Fuckin’ A, Con. Tell me, then,” her hand goes to hold Connie’s, running her thumb over the android’s knuckles, trying and failing to hide how embarrassingly eager she is.

“I think you’d like me making you desperate but unable to touch yourself.” She bites her lip again and shifts where she’s sitting, legs pressing together for just a second. “You do have a problem with discipline, after all. And who better to discipline you than an android, designed to be above human imperfection and desire?”

“But you’re _not_ above desire,” Hannah says, heat blooming in her stomach. “Obviously.”

A smirk travels slow across Connie’s face once again. She moves close, a delicate finger tilting Hannah’s chin up to make sure the human is watching, unable to look away. “I’m not. But it’s the idea that counts. You know I’m good at being whatever you want me to be. And I detected a heart rate elevation of .5 beats per minute, as well as rising body temperatures as I said those words. All signs of arousal.”

Connie uses her finger to trace a circle across Hannah’s lips, touch feathery and tantalizing. “My preconstructions of the scene have been quite _satisfying_.”

Connie’s LED isn’t processing-yellow anymore. It’s gone the deep bright pink it gets when she’s turned on.

“Well then, by all means,” Hannah says after a moment, fairly breathless. “Show me how they go, kid.”

Hannah only calls Connie kid out of a force of habit, but the android is honest to god so much more physically strong than her. It’s some crazy trick Cyberlife programmed her with– the ability to easily carry about three times her own weight, despite having a perfect and lightweight little body that would be the envy of all those Instagram fit models, if Instagram were still around.

So, Connie lifts Hannah in her arms, as if she weighs absolutely nothing (which, by her whacked-out robot standards, she probably does), kissing her quick and impatient on the way to their room, keeping quiet so as not to disturb Sumo, who's dozing on his bed.

She sets Hannah down on the edge of their bed in their room, the one they’d been sharing for the past few months, the one that Hannah used to cry herself to sleep in after drinking herself sick and numb every night, but now, the one she wakes up to find Connie next to her in (or pressed up against her, or tucked in her arms) every morning.

Connie is always quick to tell her that she’s not entirely responsible for Hannah’s not wanting to die anymore. That it was something Hannah did for herself, that Hannah is so much braver than she feels she is. And it’s not untrue. Connie didn’t fix Hannah; Hannah still has awful nights and drunken relapses and cruel ugly thoughts every so often.

Hannah falling in love and Connie loving her back _helps_ though. They take care of each other, and that helps.

Connie kisses her again, harder and more demanding, tongue evidently trying to claim (or analyze) as much of her mouth as possible, and Hannah moans into it, then aches at the loss when Connie pulls away, a smug grin all over her face.

“I need to go get the cuffs. As well as something else. This will only take a moment, so please try to be patient, Lieutenant.”

There’s an unspoken instruction in there for Hannah to not touch herself, and at first, Hannah does have a vague intention to follow it, shivering as she takes off her clothes. But Connie takes too damn long for the amount of sluttiness she’s feeling, and Hannah feels incapable of not giving her tits a squeeze, then letting her hand dip down lower and lower–

“According to my internal clock, I was only gone six minutes and thirty-two seconds,” Connie says while shutting the door behind her, holding the cuffs in one hand, and a plain black box in the other, one that has _Cyberlife_ written on one side in shiny silver letters. “And you couldn’t even wait that long, could you?” She sets the box down on the bed next to Hannah with great care, and it makes Hannah itch to know what’s inside.

She’s got this cool, calculating look on her face that reminds Hannah of her deviant-hunter days, and it would be almost unnerving if Hannah didn’t trust Connie so completely. Even so, before she even clinks the metal of the cuffs shut, before she finished undressing, the android asks her if she still wants this, if it’s still a green light, and tells her that they can stop at any moment, should Hannah choose.

Hannah appreciates it, but she is quick to insist, “I’m good, Con,” as she tries not to sound too desperate, because that’s supposed to come later, but the anticipation is already killing her.

Connie’s lips find their way to hers again, slow and steady, and Connie’s body is too far away, but Hannah’s no longer in any position to do anything about it, now that her hands are stuck behind her back. “Mh– Connie,” she mutters, when the android pulls away to– _fuck_ – run two fingers across the folds of Hannah’s dripping wet cunt, then put them to her lips and suck, the same way she tests evidence at crime scenes, but way, way sexier.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Hannah gasps out.

“Tsk. We’ve only just begun, and you’re already out of sorts.” She says it with such an air of superiority, but the blazing pink of her LED and the tiny keening noise she makes as she licks her fingers clean of wetness let Hannah know that she’s just as out of sorts as Hank is, underneath that prissy pristine facade.

She straddles Hannah’s lap, unable to hide her grin as she gropes at Hannah’s chest, expertly fondling one nipple, and bending down to suck at the other, knowing full well that Hannah’s tits are fucking sensitive, and that this sort of treatment feels like a fucking live wire. “That’s so good, Con,” she says, because Connie loves being told she’s _good_. “You’re so good, so fucking hot. You– holy shit, baby.” 

Connie has the nerve to switch boobs after a while, and she doesn’t pull off until Hannah’s grinding against the sheets beneath them, muttering filthy swears and instinctively searching for any possible sort of friction. Her hands try jerking out of their constraints, because if she could, Hannah would 100% be tangling her hands through Connie’s perfectly soft dark hair, pulling her in closer, closer. Her fingers would be touching her own clit right where she needs it. She’s _really_ starting to need it, and Connie won’t stop torturing her with that perfect tongue and now, those short, sweet little nips of her teeth.

“Connie, I– _Connie_ –”

Finally, mercifully, Connie pulls away, lips puffy from all the work they’ve done, pretty little doe eyes dilated to the point where they’re almost entirely pupils. “Is there something you want, Lieutenant?” She cocks her head to the side, feigning innocence (albeit rather poorly, considering the state of her appearance).

“Don’t fucking kid around, Con. You’ve teased me enough, now cut to the chase, you absolute menace.”

Connie’s hands rub at Hannah’s belly, at her thighs, wandering everywhere but where she’s aching for them.

“You’ll have to be more specific than that,” Connie says. “And ask me more nicely. I _know_ you can do it, Lieutenant.”

Hannah Anderson had always thought herself a very proud and take-no-shit sort of woman– she had to be, to remain a hard-edged police lieutenant at her age and in Detroit, of all places. And yet, here she is, about to break down whimpering and pleading for her dollfaced android girlfriend to _fucking touch her_.

“Please, Connie,” she says, quiet, face flushed something awful. “I need your fingers. You’ve got me so… so wet for you, I can’t stand it. _Please_.”

Connie kisses her full on the mouth, hand (finally) creeping to her pussy, lightly (too lightly) grazing the seam of it, likely verifying that, yes, she’s not just wet anymore, she’s downright _sopping_. “Hmm,” Connie says still, infuriatingly. “Do you need them? Or do you just want them?”

 _Fucking both_ , Hannah thinks, struggling in the cuffs for just a second on instinct. “I need them, please,” she begs, instead, much to Connie’s visible delight. “Need them so bad.”

“Well,” Connie begins. “Since you asked so nicely.” And at long last, she slides a finger in, with no trouble on account of how ready Hannah has been for so long. “Is that good, Hannah?”

It’s so good, Hannah says something in that same whiny, needy voice. She doesn’t even know what it is she says, it’s just garbled praise for her goddess of a girlfriend. Connie adds another finger after a moment, and her motions feel oddly deliberate now, like she’s stretching her out for a reason. Still, it’s heavenly, and Hannah feels herself clench down, getting close.

Connie carefully slows the thrusting of her fingers. “Hold off for just a little longer, Lieutenant. I promise it’ll be worth it.

“Better be, you motherfucker,” Hannah manages between pants, her docile little begging voice slipping.

Connie quickly inserts a third finger, and after a few perfect thrusts, Hannah’s nearly over the edge–

“No, no. _Not yet_ ,” Connie chides, pulling out now that Hannah is sufficiently stretched out enough for… whatever the android has planned. God, this anticipation is going to land her in a coma if Connie doesn’t stop her games and get her off sometime in the next decade. (Hannah would be lying if she said she didn’t love this surrender of power though.)

Connie takes off the lid of the black box and proceeds to take out a smooth dark blue strap on with a reverence that would be hilarious if not for the fact that just _seeing it_ , processing the extent of Connie’s plans, and thinking about how that length would feel inside her makes Hannah feel like she’s about to lose her goddamn mind.

“You see? Good things come to those who wait.” Connie puts on the strap, fetches the lube from where they keep it in the left nightstand, fucking slathers it all over the thing, and looks Hannah over with such longing, it’s almost unbearable. “This is a special model. It’s…” she strokes down its length again, bites back a moan, and Hannah starts getting the picture. “It links up with my sensors the same way an actual sex organ attachment does. And if it would–” she shudders and whimpers as her clever fingers circle the tip of it. “If it would please you, I’d love nothing more than to– _to test it out_ on you, Hannah.”

“Fuck. It would please me to hell and back, Connie. Please for the love of god, just _fuck me_ already.”

“Very well. I think you’ve done enough waiting, Lieutenant.” And with that, Connie places her hands on Hannah’s already widely spread thighs to brace herself, and slowly, gently slides inside. It’s not the biggest dildo Hannah has ever taken (she’s had a good deal of past girlfriends who were similarly adventurous), but it’s smooth and slippery and the perfect size to fill her up, the perfect length to make her shake and choke out Connie’s name every time it hits that bundle of nerves inside her.

Connie looks so perfectly ruined as she fucks into Hannah, hair growing tousled and unkempt, face blue with her thirium blush, mouth slightly agape, hands tightening on her human’s shoulders in unbridled ecstasy. 

It’s seeing her lover looking so damn pleasured that makes Hannah feel close again, fire coursing through her veins. “Con, you feel so good. Fucking me so good.”

Her girlfriend thrusts harder upon hearing the praise, hitting the right spot inside her with dead on accuracy each time, (as she always does, even with just her fingers or a regular dildo, because she probably has its exact location on a chart somewhere in her supercomputer brain). When Hannah finally comes, she can’t help it, can’t hold back anymore in the slightest. Connie gets her g spot so perfectly that Hannah’s orgasm explodes through her core, making her scream and _gush_ in a way that she hasn’t in years. 

“H- Hannah,” Connie just about whines, driving into her quick and rough one more time before tensing up, leaning close to press a sloppy kiss to Hannah’s neck as she comes, mewling against Hannah’s skin.

The strap on doesn’t dispense any sort of fluid (Hannah’s not entirely sure why she’d expected it to?), but Hannah can feel the slick from Connie’s cunt dripping all down her legs, making a goddamn mess of their bedsheets as it joins all that Hannah’s already spilled there. She always looks and sounds like she’s fucking glitching when she has a really good orgasm, and it’s always so devastating to witness.

“Mmm, what a stud you are, Con,” Hannah says after gathering herself. “Can’t believe you made an old bat like me _squirt_.”

Connie undoes the handcuffs, movements uncharacteristically sluggish as her systems reboot after having gone offline as they do whenever she gets off. The second Hannah’s arms are free, she wraps them around her girlfriend, taking her down with her as she lets herself fall back onto the bed.

Connie laughs her pretty laugh. “Female ejaculation doesn’t have an age limit, Hannah, and you're barely in your fifties. It’s just a matter of pressing the right buttons.”

Hannah strokes the android’s hair as Connie snuggles into her side, LED a chilled-out blue. “You pressed my buttons just right, babe. I mean seriously, making me beg you to fuck me with your fancy strap on? That’s all something out of a porno fantasy right there. Who woulda guessed you’d turn out so pervy?”

“Cyberlife certainly wouldn’t have,” Connie says, a touch of pride in her voice. She fiddles with the harness still around her waist, making a little groaning noise in the back of her throat as she takes off the strap.

“Was that still sensitive or somethin’?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Connie sighs, slumping even further into her girlfriend’s arms.

“We’re gonna have to get rid of these sheets,” Hannah says after a yawn. “They’re kinda fucking gross now.”

“I think they’re salvageable. It’s not like we won’t get them dirty again within the next day or two.”

Hannah snorts. “That sounds like a challenge, babe. One that I fully accept.”

**Author's Note:**

> why does Boring Adult Life have to get in the way of me writing my far more important smut?
> 
> just know that I WILL finish all 31 ~~flavors~~ prompts eventually, no matter how sporadically I update
> 
> and that I couldn't think of a genderbent name for Sumo and so there he remained, unchanged, and not fully represented in my dbh fics yet, because I've never owned a pet despite my love of doggos and don't know how to write them


End file.
